Gregor The No-Lander
by Edmund the Just
Summary: This is a fan fiction about Gregor from the Underland Chronicles by Suzanne Collins. This story is intended to be kind of a prologue to something else I'm working on. However, this story is all about how Gregor's life has been since returning to New York, and the next step in his life; graduation.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**_So first off, due to Suzanne Collins habit of leaving her characters open to the reader's imagination, it was very hard to determine Boots', Lizzie's, and Gregor's exact ages. So if their a little off, I'm sorry. Also the apartment number and the placement of Mrs. Cormaci's apartment might be a little off. DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the original characters or ideas from the original Underland Chronicles. Now, enjoy the story. Review!_  
**

_In. Out. In. Out. Left turn; 100 meters and then another left turn. In. Out. In. Out. In, hold it. Exhale. _

These breaths are the best kind, like a warm cup of cocoa in the middle of the winter. They help relax your body and replenish your muscles. Of course so do short quick breaths, but the long breaths? Bliss, absolute bliss.

_Right turn; 200 meters to go. Speed up. Pain._

Pain—this is something Gregor understands. Bliss is more of a concept; deep breaths in the middle of a long run are the extent of Gregor's blissfulness. Day in and day out keeping a secret and living in a world in which you no longer belong…that's not bliss, that's pain. More pain.

_Finished. Pain in lungs subsides._

As Gregor bends over gasping for breath he remembers all the loved ones he's lost, and all the friends he had to leave behind. None of the other teenagers understand. How many 18 year olds have had to fight wars, and watch the people they love get cut down like wheat stalks during harvest? Not any at Gregor's high school, that's for sure.

Gregor pushes all these thoughts from his mind and began to ascend the steps to his family's apartment. This is why he enjoys exercising so much these days; the rigorous work out routines help take his mind off the nightmares that are constantly invading his sleep, or the weird stares he gets from all the kids at school. It's not that Gregor was weird looking or anything—actually, Gregor had grown into the stereotypical attractive-athletic-looking-teenager. At almost 6 feet tall, and 200 lbs, with his long, dark, windswept hair, and defined jaw, it didn't even matter that he almost always wore baggy long sleeve shirts covering his bulging arms. Anyone who stole a glance at Gregor would say he was a good looking young man.

Nobody ever saw any of the scars on his legs and arms, so consequently nobody knew to be curious about them. One lone scar on his forehead that remained from the Cutters' invasion about 6 years ago wouldn't draw much attention. No, what caused Gregor to stick out at a high school in New York with plenty of kids, each with their own "style", was his demeanor. Something about the way Gregor looked at people was just different from the average 18 year old high school senior. The way he reacted so venomously when people sneaked up on him. How much older he acted. It was like someone had stuck a 60 year old war veteran inside the body of a high school quarterback.

Gregor walks down the hallway until he reaches apartment 216, right across from Mrs. Cormaci's apartment. Mrs. Cormaci. The only person outside of Gregor's immediate family who understood what had happened to them. Mrs. Cormaci had been a huge help to Gregor's family about 6 years ago when they had gotten wrapped up in some…foreign trouble. If it hadn't been for her they could never have made it.

Gregor grabs the doorknob to his apartment and starts to open the door before he realizes something isn't right. For a split second, panic starts to set in as Gregor wracks his brain trying to figure out what is wrong. Then it hits him; the house is completely quiet. There is no sound coming out of the tiny apartment his family called home. With his two sisters, one aged 9 and the other 13 years old, the tiny apartment never gets a moment of complete silence—another reason for Gregor's two to three hour work out sessions. However, as Gregor stands outside his apartment, hand clenched around the doorknob, there is absolutely no sound coming from inside his apartment.

Is nobody home? No, they are always home at this time—they don't have the money to go running around the city for no apparent reason. _What if-_

Before Gregor allows time for the next thought to form he swings open the door with such force that the doorknob punches a hole in the wall behind. He follows the short hall through the empty living room into the tiny space they call the kitchen. Before he has time to go racing into the bedrooms he spots a yellow sticky note hanging on the refrigerator. Gregor stops dead in his tracks. He reaches out for it with a shaking hand, and plucks the note off the fridge.

Written in his mother's fancy cursive handwriting are the words,

"We are at the hospital.

It's your grandmother.

Get here as soon as you can."

~Love You, Mom.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**_I know this is starting off kind of slow, but after elapsing 6 years into the future I feel like there is a lot of information to cover. I hope you like it! Please review!_**

After Gregor takes the subway and sprints two blocks, he reaches the hospital his Grandmother is usually admitted to. The hospital is a three story red brick building with an equally high parking garage connected to the right side of it. On either side of the building are dark looming skyscrapers that make the hospital look unimportant and out of date. The pavement that runs parallel to the street connects perpendicularly to a cobblestone pathway that leads to the hospital entrance. On either side of the pathway are patches of land that Gregor is sure are intended to be covered in green grass. Instead the pathway is surrounded by brown, dying grass. On the left side of the pathway there is an old, rusted, disconnected sprinkler lying in the middle of the "grass". On the right side a flag pole stands erect with an American flag hanging lifelessly at the top.

As Gregor hustles up the cobblestone path and through the front double doors. He enters the little entryway between the first set of double doors connecting to the outside, and the second set of double doors connecting to the lobby. On the inside of this alcove is a statue of three gnarled old women who played a big part in financing the hospital a couple million years ago. Gregor always finds these women, or witches as they seem to Gregor, a horrible way of welcoming people into a hospital that is intended to be a comforting place for the sick and dying. Gregor quickly passes through the second set of double doors and into the lobby before the three witches have time to tell him his future. What greets him is a room about the size of a large classroom, maybe thirty-six square feet deep and wide. The walls are covered in an off-white paint that is chipping to reveal the gray of the sheetrock beneath. Lining the walls to his left and right are connected metal chairs in groups of six. Facing away from Gregor in the middle of the room are four more rows of chairs with six on each row. These chairs are facing the wall directly across from the doors leading to the domain of the three witches. On this wall is a glass window behind which sits a plump lady with frizzy red hair and large glasses on the end of her nose. On either side of this glass window is a door that leads to the rooms of the patients beyond. To Gregor's right sit his father and two younger siblings.

Gregor's grandmother has been in and out of the hospital for the past 6 years and senile for almost twice as long. Usually, when she is admitted into the hospital, his family would treat it like they would Boots having a cold. They take care of her, of course, but they never get too worked up since it happens on a regular basis. This time, as Gregor enters the lobby of the _Down Town Cawdor Hospital, _his family's mood is completely different. Gregor feels the sadness radiating from the corner of the lobby where half of his family sits in complete silence.

His father sits hunched over in the metal chair farthest from where Gregor stands. With his head resting in his bony hands; the only sign of life remaining in him is the slight movement of his shoulders as he inhales and exhales in a rhythm that is slow enough to add to the aura of utter despair that fills the room.

The older of his two sisters, Lizzie, is sitting in a similar metal chair directly beside his father. Lizzie sits with one leg tucked under the other, both hands resting lifelessly in her lap. Her eyes are puffy and red like she has been crying. She stares straight ahead with a glazed expression plastered on her face.

Finally, his youngest sister Boots, who has been through so much with Gregor, sits on the floor next to her father's chair in one of those awkward looking positions that can only be achieved as a young child, with her legs crossed and her body crumpled forward. Her arms are wrapped around her head and Gregor can hear the occasional sniffle coming from inside her little ball indicating that she has also been crying.

"No…" Gregor whispers to himself as the realization of what's happened hits him. He hasn't intended to speak out loud. However, the sound of his voice is enough to cause his father to lift his head and give Gregor one of those pity-smiles people give when they're trying not to cry.

Hearing their father's movement, Boots raises her head and yells "Gregor!" before jumping up and running to wrap her arms around Gregor's stomach. Gregor grabs Boots by her shoulders and pushes her back so that he can bend over and get on eye level with her. He gives her his most encouraging smile and, trying not to let his voice crack, says, "Hey, Princess, how are you holding up?"

"I'm okay," Boots says as she gives another sniffle and reaches up to wipe her nose with her sleeve. "Grandma was getting kinda' old anyway. She was ready to go." She says this with half a smile.

The way his 9 year old sister tries to reassure him fills him with a sense of sadness that catches him completely unaware. It wasn't that long ago when she didn't even understand the concept of death. Now she is standing in a bleak hotel lobby telling Gregor that it was time for their grandmother to die, and it's all going to be okay.

"You're right Boots, it's all going to be okay," Gregor says, the same pity-smile his father had given him playing across his lips. Gregor stands up straight and looks at his father who hovers behind Boots with a look of utter exhaustion on his face. After Gregor had rescued his father from the clutches of a tyrant king named King Gorger (who coincidentally used an anagram of the same letters that were used to spell Gregor's name) it had taken him almost three years to get over the fevers and return to a semblance of normalcy. Now, since about a year and a half ago, Gregor's father had found a job as a handyman at some big corporate office about two blocks from their apartment complex. However, Gregor's father has yet to fully adjust to the routine of having to work again, and his appearance shows it. He has shaggy hair that he usually greases back, causing him to show resemblance to Jefferson Smith in the old movie _Mr. Smith Goes to Washington—_albeit an older and more worn version. Gregor's father looks just as weak as he felt when he first returned to New York.

Gregor's father stands now and holds his arms open in a gesture implying he wants a hug from Gregor as well. Gregor steps past his sister and wraps his father in a tight embrace, allowing himself to be engulfed in the smell of peppermint and aftershave—Gregor's favorite smell in the entire world.

"How long ago?" Gregor asks quietly as he continues to embrace the father he had once fought and bled to save.

"About half an hour," his father said, with that same smile. "Sometimes life isn't fair, is it?"

And that is all they say; nothing else needs to be said. Gregor understands that his grandmother is now gone, and he knows that the rest of his family understands as well. At eighteen years old, Gregor has seen more death than most people will see in their entire lifetime, and as unfortunate as it is, Gregor isn't as shell-shocked as most people are by this type of experience. Gregor gives Lizzie the only kind of hug you can give to someone who is sitting down while you remain standing—an awkward one. Gregor sits down in the metal chair next to Lizzie and leans his head back against the peeling wall, and before he knows it he's drifting into a troublesome reverie, thinking about his father's last words Gregor can just picture those three witches cackling.

"_Fair is foul and foul is fair, and you'd do well to remember it Gregor."_


End file.
